Shadows of Lórien
by Ethereal Wine Monk
Summary: The elves of Lórien face an unknown enemy with strange powers.
1. Beginnings

Though the hour was late, the elvish forest of Lórien still glowed as if it were merely dusk. Lamps of elvish design hung from every branch and lit the fair city with unwavering light. A few of the fair folk walked amongst the trees still, their eyes cast skyward to see the stars. Some opted to sing of the stars' beauty while others remained in silent reverence, and others still worked to capture a semblance of the beauty in works of art and craftsmanship; but all such works, however good they may seem, were mere shadows of the true beauty the elves saw. Such was their love of stars.

Some elves slumbered within their fair homes, either in the treetops or on the ground between the great trunks of ageless trees. Their homes were simple, but beautifully crafted from purposefully carved wood and woven thatching that could be removed to provide an uninhibited view of the sky. All of the homes had well-crafted doors with unmarred paint, but many doors remained open to allow fresh forest air inside. Within, their furniture was simple, yet beautiful and made for comfort. Even common buildings such as the stables were made by master craftsmen; each stable was as perfect as the last.

As Lady Galadriel surveyed her people from within her treetop throne room, her heart was weighed down. Usually, hearing the songs of joyful elves would lighten her spirits and ease her mental and spiritual burdens, but it was not so tonight. An ever-growing feeling of dread had been building in the back of her mind, slowly creeping its way into her every thought. At first, she had foolishly dismissed it as another semi-regular uprising of goblins or perhaps unrest among the stone giants. Now she knew that was not so.

The lady closed her eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. Yes, she should have investigated sooner. It was foolish not to. But she could do nothing about the past. Feeling the tight knot of anxiety loosen in her bosom, she reopened her eyes and turned her gaze northward. Somewhere, in that direction, she could feel a gathering evil.

Another, familiar tickling at the back of her mind brought her attention back to her throne room. "Marchwarden, thank you for coming to see me," she lilted in their native tongue.

"Of course, my lady," came the deep reply. "I came as soon as I heard your summons. What may I do for you?"

In one fluid motion, the lady turned and set her gaze on the marchwarden Haldir. Though he had seen her many times before, she still took his breath away. Her hair was long and gold, fairer than any jewels or art crafted by even the most skilled of hands. Her blue eyes were clear and carried in them wisdom and the light of the stars. Her garments, though beautiful and made from finest craftsmanship, seemed too poor for her magnificence. Unmarred by battle or by time, Lady Galadriel was the most beautiful and powerful elf remaining in Middle Earth.

Haldir the marchwarden bowed deeply. His own blonde hair was kept tied back in a horse tail to keep it out of his fair, angular face. He dressed simply in sturdy elvish-made leather armor and a grey cloak. Next to the Lady of the Wood, he and every other elf looked plain and uninteresting.

"Haldir, what I tell you now must not travel beyond this room. I see no reason to worry our people just yet." Galadriel swept across the room and settled in her throne, an ornate chair made from living wood. "I sense something to the north, in your section of the forest. Have your scouts noticed aught strange of late?"

"No, my lady," the marchwarden responded gravely. "All reports have been normal."

"We need a scouting party to go further north. Ask only for volunteers, and warn them that they may be placing themselves in mortal peril. Do it swiftly and discretely."

"My lady?" Haldir looked confused and concerned, but he trusted her implicitly. If she declined to divulge her concerns to him, he would not press the issue.

"I dare not speak it aloud, lest I sully the air of our fair house. Pay heed, Haldir."

Then, like strange music, her voice sounded in his head. _I cannot say what or where, but a great darkness presse__s__my mind. I know not its origin or its purpose, but it is imperative that we find out. We must discover what it is, and we must destroy it before it spreads. I will not risk more lives than necessary, Haldir. Ask for volunteers only._

"I understand, my lady. Consider it done." With another bow, the marchwarden turned to leave.

"Marchwarden?" the lady called, making him pause at the doorway. "Choose wisely. Good night."


	2. Oreleth

AN: Thank you very much for the reviews! We appreciate any suggestions that may improve our story.

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><p>The elf maid Oreleth was sat upon a stool, her eyes intent on the canvas before her. Slender fingers guided a brush across its surface, shaping the paint how she desired it. Like many of the elves in Lórien, she was fair with long, blonde hair, which she now kept braided back out of her face. Her eyes were a clear blue and sharp enough to notice minute details. Though she wore no smock, her green dress bore not a stain or smudge of paint.<p>

Pausing, she glanced beyond the canvas to the reference for her painting. A small flower bloomed among the leaves, flecked with morning dew and crowned by the sun. Oreleth frowned a touch and returned her gaze to her painting. She, and others in the forest, lived in treetop houses connected by bridges and ladders. For her, it was more convenient for her artistry. It offered her a better view of her surroundings and a better chance to spot her next project.

As she painted, another elf approached her home by way of one of the bridges. The marchwarden Haldir stepped lightly onto her porch and stood a respectful distance away, out of her light. "Quel amrun, Oreleth. We have not spoken for a time and I thought to see how you were faring."

The she-elf stepped back from her painting and turned to smile at him. "Quel amrun, Haldir. This painting gives me grief, but otherwise I cannot complain."

The marchwarden leaned around to look at the unfinished work. "It looks magnificent. What troubles you?"

Oreleth's face twisted briefly into a grimace. "I shall embarrass myself. Look there; see that flower? See how the sun's rays play about its petals and makes the dew glitter like diamonds? You see how the mist swirl around it in an endless dance? However good my paintings, they can never compare to such beauty."

"Alas, mellonamin, I am afraid only the Valar may create that. Aught we lesser creatures may create seems a mere shadow of the original subject. But, if we may appreciate it for what it is instead of comparing it to the creations of greater beings, we may find that it has a beauty of its own. Truly, I think it is wonderful."

Oreleth stared at her painting a moment before responding. "Ah, but you're right. Perhaps I was silly. It is, after all, one of my best works of late." She cleaned her brush in a bowl of water and set it aside to dry. "Would you like to come in for refreshment, marchwarden? As you said, we have not spoken for a time and I should like to catch up."

Haldir gave a small bow. "I should like that very much." Together, they went inside. Haldir settled himself on a chair while Oreleth prepared tea.

"How have you fared?" she asked once she finally sat down.

"Well enough, though a burden presses on my mind. Do you recall that scouting party I sent out? It was perhaps two months ago." When she inclined her head, he continued. "They have not returned, nor have I received any reports. It is most unlike our scouts not to send some word back."

"My, you sound like a mother hen fretting over her chicks! You trained those scouts yourself, Haldir. You prepared them as best as you may. Perhaps they are merely delayed." When the marchwarden didn't speak, she pressed on. "I suppose you still cannot tell me the purpose for their mission."

"No, and I beg you not to ask. Lady Galadriel bade me tell no one, save those who need know. I hope and pray it shall never be so serious that you should have to know, mellonamin." He set his cup down and rubbed his temples. "I shall say this: whatever is going on is serious enough now to cause the Lady some concern. In turn, it causes me _great_ concern. I come to you to escape my troubles, else I fear I shall start wrinkling as the mortal races do as they age."

"I beg your forgiveness, Haldir. I did not know it was so serious." Oreleth reached over and gripped his hand softly. "You may visit whenever you like if it helps lessen your burden. I like our chats; they always brighten my days."

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "You are a kind friend."

With a final squeeze of his hand, she released him and stood. "Now, come back outside. I want to show you my next idea for a painting."

The pair talked long on the spacious porch surrounding Oreleth's home. She showed him ideas for her next works while he voiced his approval and offered a few suggestions of his own. Each discussed the new tidings in their lives since last they spoke, and eventually they wandered out together for a stroll among the trees. As they walked, they fell silent and enjoyed the familiar sounds of the forest.

"How fares your sister in Imladris?" he asked after a time.

"She is well. She writes me and tells me how everyone there loves her singing. She _claims_ to be the best at improvising lyrics, but I find that difficult to believe. There are many talented and creative minds in Imladris. To think that my silly young sister would be the best!"

"She has come a long way from stealing your brushes and forgetting where she hid them."

"Yes! I still remember chasing her all around, and she would laugh and keep just out of my reach. I do miss her."

"Perhaps you should visit? I am sure she would like that."

"Yes, perhaps. I have thought of it."

"What keeps you here?"

She glanced at him, then gestured at the forest around them. "I love my home. I love my people. Lady Galadriel works to keep this forest a safe haven for us all. But my sister, whatever her reason, was never content to stay. Our mother claims she was restless in the womb. She is restless still.

"She has a free spirit. I wish I could be so free, but I'm afraid I also love this place too much to leave it for long." Oreleth paused on the sun dappled path and stretched her hands toward the leaves above her. "This is my home." Then, with a twirl, she danced down the path, her skirts billowing around her.

She was stopped by Haldir's sudden movement. In an instant his hand was on her arm, his body language suddenly tense, and his gaze sharp as he looked around. Oreleth realized then that the wildlife around them had gone quiet. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, no beasts rustled the undergrowth. All was eerily silent.

"Stay close to me," he whispered, pulling out his belt knife. The pair noiselessly moved forward, alert for any sign of danger. At last, Oreleth squeezed his arm and pointed. Hidden away in the underbrush was an unconscious scout, one from Haldir's missing party. Haldir rushed to him and gingerly pulled him free from the foliage, laying him out on the path they had been walking. Deftly, he found the scout's weak pulse, then checked him over for injuries. Meanwhile, Oreleth used Haldir's water skin to dampen a handkerchief and dabbed at the scout's face. The dirt and grime fell away, leaving behind-

"Haldir, look," she said tensely. The scout's face was marked by unsightly black, spidery veins just below his skin.

"What evil is this?" the marchwarden whispered. Taking the handkerchief, he wiped grime off of the scouts hands, chest, and even part of his leg where his trousers were ripped. Everywhere, he had the dark markings.

"He carries the smell of death, but he still lives," Oreleth murmured.

"We must bring him to the Lady, but we must not cause undue alarm. Can you help me?"

"Of course, Haldir. What must I do?"

Even for an elf, sneaking past elvish guards was no easy feat. Whenever there was no way to get around them, Haldir would bear the whole weight of the scout while Oreleth went and talked casually with the guards. After Haldir was clear, she took her leave and strolled on, ultimately catching up with him and sharing his burden. The worst would have been getting the scout up to Galadriel's throne room, but by then the Lady sensed their plight and sent trusted elves to assist. At last, they stood in the throne room with the scout laid out upon a table. Galadriel had one hand upon his brow, another upon his chest, her eyes closed.

After a long while of silence, she opened her eyes and stepped back. "This is an evil I have not seen before," she said gravely. "He rots from the inside. His insides turn black and his life is failing. I am amazed he made it as far as he did before he collapsed." Her gaze turned to Haldir and Oreleth. "Tell me again how you found him"

When they finished their retelling, the Lady had washed her hands thoroughly in a wooden basin and sat upon her throne. "And he did not wake up at all?"

"No, my lady," Haldir replied gravely. "He did not so much as stir."

Her gaze fixed on Oreleth alone. "How did you spot him? Guards patrol that path regularly and none of them saw him."

"As an artist, my lady, I am inclined to find small details easily missed. I noticed one of his boot buckles poking up from the undergrowth."

"I thank you, Oreleth. Had he been there much longer, he would have died before anyone found him. Even now, I am afraid I cannot help. We may only make him comfortable for his passing." She paused and looked over each elf before her. There were her marchwardens, her personal guard, and the artist Oreleth. Her husband, the Lord Celeborn, was out surveying the training of young elves.

"My friends, I am afraid I must burden you further. I beg your forgiveness for these dark tidings. I am especially sorry for you, Oreleth. Though you are but an artist, I feel I owe it to you to explain what has passed. What you see before you is the work of a dark sorcerer. It is not the work of a wizard, or even of any dark force of which we know. No, this is a strange new enemy.

"I was able to see into the scout's mind and glimpse some of his memories. Many were already fading, but I think I saw enough. As they traveled further north, the scouts were ambushed and captured by a swarm of goblins. Under normal circumstances, the scouts could have easily defeated goblins in that number, but I believe these were different. They were more organized, cleverer. They brought our scouts beyond our northern border to a great camp in the shadows of the Hithaeglir where they were kept without food or water. They were beaten, whipped, and humiliated.

"After weeks of this treatment, they were greatly weakened. It was then that they were well and truly tortured for information they had of Lórien. I believe they did not give up any of our secrets, however much pain they were in. And then at last, they met a woman. I could not see her clearly for she was veiled in shadow, but her voice was that of an elf. She told our scouts they were free to go, with her blessing." The Lady hesitated, her expression grim.

"And then, she gave them all her _blessing._ She cursed them all to rot from the inside until they were naught but a pile of ashes, and she let them go. All but this one died before reaching the forest's border."

A heavy silence fell upon the throne room. At last, it was broken when a marchwarden hissed, "A witch!"

"So it would seem, and she has an army of goblins, doubtless from the Hithaeglir themselves, at her beck and call. I fear if she targets our scouts, she may plan to launch an attack on our home." Galadriel locked eyes with each person in the room in turn. "My friends, I must ask you to assist me in preparations for battle. We must protect our home and the people we love."

The marchwardens chorused "Of course, my lady," while Oreleth simply stared, her face very pale.

"We must not cause undue alarm. Tell only the necessary people. I shall contact our brethren in the Greenwood and in Imladris in hopes that they may send aid." Her eyes fell once more on Oreleth, her expression kind. "Dear Oreleth, I pray you take heart. We shall defeat this evil, and you shall play a part. Will you stay and talk with me a while?"

"Yes, my lady," Oreleth whispered. Inside, she despaired. She was an artist, not a warrior. What good could she do in a battle? If only she had never gone on that stroll with Haldir! She didn't want to be involved in this.

"My lady, if I may?" Haldir stepped forward and bowed.

"Go ahead, marchwarden."

"If Oreleth is to be involved, may I suggest she be put in my care? We have been friends a great while and I think she would feel more comfortable if I were to train her."

"I shall take that into consideration. Now, I must ask all of you to excuse us. Oreleth and I have much to discuss."

Haldir gave Oreleth a reassuring pat on her back before he left, following the other marchwardens out. Four of them bore the fallen scout to take him somewhere comfortable to die. At last, Oreleth was alone with Galadriel.

"I know you are scared," the Lady began. "and I know this is a lot to take in all at once. I ask that you trust in me, and believe me when I say that you are vital for our success. I know not exactly what part you shall play, but I know it shall be the difference between victory and defeat. Can you trust me?"

Oreleth swallowed hard. "Yes, my lady. Of course."

Galadriel gestured at a chair. "Then come, sit. We must talk a while."


	3. Maehel

AN: Hello everyone, and sorry for the delay! Again, thank you for the reviews.

There will be another update next week!

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><p>"Psst! Maehel, over here!"<p>

The she-elf called Maehel looked around until she discovered the source of the noise - her friend Rileth was hidden within a shadowy copse just outside Caras Galadhon. At her friend's frantic beckoning, Maehel rushed to hide alongside her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed once crouched among the underbrush.

"Hiding. What are _you_ doing?"

"My naneth sent me to gather mallorn leaves for their trip." She showed her friend the bundle of large, dark-green leaves she carried. "They're to be gone a while and they're making lembas bread for the trip. Who are you hiding from?"

Before Rileth could respond, another elf sprinted past their hiding spot. "Rileth!" called a female voice. "Come back here! This stopped being funny a century ago! Rileth!"

As the voice faded, Rileth turned to Maehel and grinned. "_Her_. Come on, let's hurry to your house. She won't think to look there until sundown at least."

The pair crept from their hiding spot and rushed back into their tree-city. Rileth, the younger of the two, was a slender young elf barely into young adulthood. Her long blonde hair fell freely down her back with bits of leaves and twigs caught in places. Her blue eyes glittered with mischief. She coolly pulled a paint brush out of her sleeve and tucked it behind her ear.

Maehel was older than Rileth, but only by thirty years; she was still considered young by elvish standards. Her hair was a darker blonde, tied back in a low ponytail. Her eyes were light green and full of innocence, though that was deceptive. She often found herself swept up into tomfoolery by her closest-perhaps only-friend.

"Where is it your parents are going?" Rileth asked once they were well into the city. It was still daylight out, so the city was buzzing with activity. Blacksmith hammers echoed throughout the city and up into the trees. The surrounding forest was crawling with warriors-in-training and their equipment. Any elf who was free was helping in the preparations for war, be it in preparing lembas bread or fixing armor or preparing bandages.

"They're being sent on a trade mission to the Greenwood."

"Is that safe, considering all that is happening?"

"It must be done. We're short on steel and our brethren have extra. Besides, they shall have a handful of guards with them. The marchwarden Haldir picked them himself."

"Isn't he handsome?" Rileth sighed. "He barely looks at me because I'm so young."

"He's alright, I suppose," Maehel murmured. "He isn't much my type."

"Your type is cold and made of marble!" her friend cried with exasperation. "You care more for your sculptures than you do for love."

"What's wrong with that? I enjoy making my sculptures."

"It isn't healthy to be cooped up with them all day! While your parents are gone, promise me you will visit me often. Otherwise, I should have to come drag you outside."

Maehel sighed deeply. "If that is what I must do to keep you from shattering another one of my sculptures, then I shall try."

"So dramatic," Rileth teased.

"So restless," Maehel countered. "I get tired simply watching you."

After they had delivered the leaves to Maehel's mother, the two young elves ventured to Maehel's home nearby. Flanking her doorway on either side was a sculpture of her own creation, each representing one of the Two Trees of Valinor. Each tree was expertly detailed, down to the ridges in their bark and their every leaf. The sculpture representing Laurelin was painted gold, and the sculpture representing Telperion was painted silver.

"I still wonder why you keep these here," Rileth murmured, eyeing the sculptures. "They are perhaps your best work. The Lord and Lady would surely allow you to place them where everyone could admire them."

"I like them where they are. As you say, they are my best work, and I enjoy seeing them so near." Maehel gazed affectionately at her sculptures before stepping inside her home. Within, there were a few other sculptures scattered about. Her current work in progress, an eagle in flight, sat upon her workbench.

"I wouldn't be able to sleep surrounded by so many sculptures," Rileth commented as she stared at a life-sized bear. "It's unsettling."

"None of them are here for long. That one has been sold already; I am merely waiting for it to be picked up. And besides, I like being surrounded by my art. Say what you will, I think they are nice."

"They are certainly lovely, mellonamin. I simply wonder if it is healthy to be surrounded by so many."

Maehel sighed patiently. "Rileth, it's fine. I wish you would stop fretting."

"Alright, alright. It's just...you don't have many friends, Maehel. You spend so much time cooped up in here that I worry you will shut us all off completely."

"I would never do that," Maehel replied softly. "I love my people too much for that."

"Still, you should consider perhaps getting out more and making more friends." Rileth sounded uncharacteristically serious.

"Why are you so concerned all of a sudden? I have you as a friend. That is more than enough for me."

Rileth paused a moment. "I am considering moving, you know."

That made Maehel whirl around to face her friend. "What? When?"

"I haven't decided for sure, yet. I just...I want to see other places! I've been here my whole life, and I...I want to see the Greenwood, and Imladris! Were it not for all the darkness in the world, I should like to have visited the kingdoms of men! Perhaps even the dwarves in their mountain halls, if they let me in. I want to _do_ something with my life!" Rileth collapsed into a chair, arms draped over its sides. "I feel cooped up here, like a beast in a cage. I want out, Maehel."

Maehel stood in bewildered silence for a long moment before sinking into a chair opposite her friend. "Will you let me know when you have decided?"

"Mellonamin, you will be the very first to know. I promise I shall write you whenever I am able, by any means I can. But, I have not yet made any final decisions. We may still have years here together!"

Maehel smiled, but it was forced. "I hope you will find happiness, Rileth."

"I hope the same for you, Maehel. Now, tell me about this newest sculpture."

The two were lost in conversation until well into the night, discussing anything and everything. When Rileth started yawning, Maehel ushered her to the door. "And stop harassing your sister!"

"I do it out of love. I shall see you tomorrow." Rileth disappeared into the night, making her way home. Maehel, suddenly very tired, crawled into bed and was instantly asleep.

_She walked along a dirt road through a valley. The Greenwood was in sight, but still far. In front of her on the path lay the smoldering ruin of a caravan. Approaching it, she saw three ransacked carts smoking, their wheels broken and charred. There was no sign of the horses._

_Guards lay scattered and broken around the carts, their features too badly marred to discern who they once were. Their armor was of elvish make and had saved most of their bodies from burning. The unprotected areas-their faces and hands-were blackened._

_Then, she noticed two gleaming figures in the middle of the wreckage. When she got closer, she screamed. There, laid out perfectly as if sleeping, were her parents. Veiled in silver light, they were the only ones unsullied in death. Then, as she watched, their bodies burst into flame and withered away to smoke and ash. Her screams echoed throughout the valley, yet no one could hear her. She was utterly alone._

Maehel sat bolt upright in her bed, sweat coating her body and making her loose nightgown stick. She looked wide-eyed around her room, relaxing when she saw only her sculptures. Then, her eyes fell upon a shadowed figure at the foot of her bed. It seemed carved out of the room's darkness with its eyes the only clearly discernable feature. They burned with intense light, their gaze intent upon her. Just as she registered all this, it was gone. Had she imagined it? The cold feeling in the pit of her stomach told her no; what she had seen was very real.

Deciding she would sleep no more that night, Maehel dressed and went for a walk around the city, her thoughts racing. Was there any truth to her dream, or was she merely concerned about her parents' safety? And what of the figure in her room? It did not feel evil or threatening, but it came from the shadows. A large part of her was wary and a bit afraid, but a smaller part was simply curious. What was that mysterious figure, and what did it want with her?


	4. Training

AN: Apologies on the short one this week! We hope you are all enjoying the story thus far. :)

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><p>After the marchwardens and the artist Oreleth departed, Galadriel was left in her throneroom alone. A moment to think was rare for her anymore, let alone time to herself. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and sank back into her chair.<p>

Several quiet moments passed before she heard a whisper of robes. Her husband, Lord Celeborn, approached and folded her hands into his. "Alatáriel, you are weary. Come rest a while."

The Lady of Lórien opened her eyes with a weary smile. "Melamin."

Celeborn knelt before her. "What troubles you?"

"I could not sense the scout. He was well within our borders, very near Calas Galadhon, but I did not know he was there. What new threat is this that can traverse my domain without my knowing?"

"Mela en' coiamin, we shall face this new threat as we always have. You are the mightiest of all our people east of the sea. Despair not-no challenge is too great, no enemy too strong." He squeezed her hands tenderly. "Though such worry is unlike you."

"I feel the threat pressing ever on my mind and I fear it darkens my mood. I will be much improved once preparations have begun."

"They will be, soon enough. Now, come! You must rest, else I fear you shall weaken. Come along." And so the Lady went, letting her Lord lead her to their chambers amongst the treetops.

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><p>Oreleth rubbed her forearms gently, looking forlorn. "Why doesn't the bowstring hit you when you fire? What am I doing wrong?"<p>

Haldir flashed her a smile. "I have been doing it for centuries, and you have just started. You shoot well for a beginner."

"I shall develop bruises," the elf maid murmured, eyeing her abused flesh. "This is so different from anything I'm used to."

"Surely you were not a master the first time you lifted a paintbrush? This shall take time, as with everything. Have patience, mellonamin."

Oreleth looked around at all the other warriors in the middle of their training. "We may not have time to be patient. We march within the month."

Instead of her usual dress, she chose hardier clothes for her time in training. Her pants and boots were both of sturdy leather, light enough for ease of movement and stealth. Her shirt was a simple green garment with leather reinforcements where blows would most often occur in training.

"Have some faith in yourself, Oreleth! I trust you shall be able to hold your own when we do see battle. If nothing else, you may dazzle the goblins with your art and distract them while we kill them." His eyes glittered with mirth, though he fought to keep his expression blank.

Oreleth shook her head with a reluctant smile. "I doubt goblins are cultured enough to appreciate my paintings. Perhaps show them one of yours? They might relate to it better."

Haldir threw his head back and laughed. "There is the Oreleth I know and love! Come now, try shooting again."

After taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Oreleth assumed the archer's stance, nocked an arrow, drew back, and fired. She felt the familiar pain in her forearm as the bowstring snapped against her unprotected flesh, but her eyes were focused on the wooden target before her. The arrow struck the target's outer rim.

"See? You get better every day. At least you're hitting the target consistently. Now all we must do is strengthen your arms to increase your range."

Oreleth bared her forearms. "And perhaps show me how I may shoot without such mutilation?"

"Ah yes, that too. One step at a time, mellonamin."

Since her meeting with Galadriel, Oreleth's days were full of military training. In the morning, she practiced hand-to-hand combat with other new learners. They learned blows and blocks alike, as well as how to fall without serious injury. After the midday meal, she went off to learn swordplay and archery with Haldir, and occasionally he let her practice with smaller knives. Though this was only her third week of training, she could hold her own with a pair of daggers.

At last, when the sun began to set, Haldir called an end to their training for the day. "You are always improving, Oreleth. I hear today was the first time you managed to stop the other trainees from throwing you."

"Yes, and I have the bruise to prove it." She rubbed the affected area tenderly.

"Allow me to heal you. I know you're no good at it and I hate to see you in so much pain."

"If it would be no trouble to you, I wouldn't mind going to bed without feeling every blow from practice."

Haldir gave a short bow. "It would be my pleasure."

They made their way together toward Oreleth's home, discussing her training and their plans for the next day. Once they arrived, Haldir had her sit and relax while he made a batch of tea. As soon as the hot liquid passed her lips, her aches eased. When she finished her tea, Haldir produced a clay jar of ointment. "Apply this to your wounds. If you'd like, I can help with your back."

"Thank you Haldir, but I think I can manage." She accepted the jar with a smile. "The tea is already working wonders. But for now, I should like to take a bath."

"Of course. I shall take my leave."

Haldir made it all the way to the door before she stopped him. "Haldir, wait. If you'd like, perhaps we could go for another walk later?"

He smiled. "And perhaps this time we won't start a war."


	5. The Mirror

Oreleth sat before the Lady, her fingers picking at the hem of her sleeve. "A mirror, arwen en amin?"

"Yes, Oreleth. It will show you what may come to pass so that you may see the importance of what you do." She rose and led Oreleth to a shallow stone basin upon a pedestal near the center of the room. Beside it sat a pitcher that Galadriel then picked up. "Will you look?"

Oreleth swallowed the lump in her throat and stood, her knees threatening to buckle. "Yes," she whispered.

"Then come." The Lady poured the clear water from the pitcher into the basin. "See what may be."

Taking a deep breath, Oreleth forced herself to walk the few steps to the basin. The Lady gave her a reassuring smile. "Do not be afraid. I am here with you." Feeling somewhat comforted, Oreleth peered down. At first, she saw only her reflection upon the water's smooth surface, then...

_She stood several paces away, watching a battle unfold before her. Galadriel faced off against a veiled woman, their might clashing. Spectacular bursts of white light shielded Galadriel from her foe's dark energy, though it grew stronger. A fell mist lay heavy over the surrounding battle, making it steadily more difficult to see. Elves and goblins fought around the two women, giving them a wide berth. Oreleth grappled with a goblin that had grabbed her bow. She tried desperately to get it free, her eyes flicking to the Lady's fight with growing urgency._

_She looked over just in time to see Galadriel's sword fall from her hand. Despite her protective powers, the veiled woman managed to disarm her with the finesse of a master swordsman. Oreleth redoubled her attempts to free her bow, seeing the woman ready the final blow._

_But her attempts were in vain. With a cry, the Lady fell to the ground, blackness spreading from a wound in her chest. The goblins cheered and their efforts invigorated, forcing the elves back. The goblin wrenched Oreleth's bow from her hands as three others converged on her, cutting her down. As she lay dying, she saw Haldir fighting to reach her, his face twisted with grief and horror. Black goblin arrows sprouted from his chest, and he fell._

Oreleth fell to her knees, weeping. Her hands clutched at her chest as if to calm her pounding heart, but to no avail. She felt a warm hand grip her shoulder. "That is not how it must be. You, Oreleth, may change this fate."

With tears still fresh upon her face, Oreleth gazed up at the Lady. "What must I do?"

Galadriel gave her another warm smile. "You will train as much as you can. Haldir will help, but I daresay he has his hands full with other new recruits. You must practice, Oreleth. Your skill may save my life…" Her voice became suddenly quiet, "...and Haldir's."

"Is that all? I must simply train?"

"That is all I can ask of you. This battle is far from us. Too much remains uncertain. I may know better as the time draws near. Can you do that for me, for now?"

"Yes. I will do my best."

Galadriel helped Oreleth to her feet with an encouraging smile. "Thank you, Oreleth."

When Oreleth finished recounting her story, Haldir shook his head. "This is a heavy burden placed upon you, mellonamin."

The pair now strolled through the trees at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool night air. After her bath, Oreleth had changed back into one of her dresses and untied her hair, letting it flow free about her shoulders. Haldir had removed his armor, but kept his comfortable training clothes on. He walked with his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

"It troubles me," she agreed. "but I will do my best. As you said, I have improved already. I must simply keep improving and hope it is enough."

"I just wonder, what could you do to prevent the Lady's defeat?" Haldir gazed at her sidelong.

"As I said before, I see things easily missed. Perhaps I shall see a weak spot, an opening?"

"That is a possibility, I suppose. I still struggle to imagine you in a battle, you know. The Oreleth I know has always been peaceful-far from a warrior."

"Perhaps I shall become more like the Lady. She can best any elf in a duel, either of wit or sword."

"The day you beat me in a duel with a sword shall be the day I eat my leggings." Haldir grinned mischievously as Oreleth shot him a look. "I have been doing this for centuries. If you or any other new recruit beats me, I am unworthy of the title marchwarden."

"You may live to regret those words." Oreleth flexed her fingers, working out the stiffness from practice. It was late now; the stars glittered in the sky, lighting the forest with a pale glow. "I hope I am good enough. Even if I die, I hope to save Lady Galadriel and my home."

Haldir paused, a frown tugging at his lips. "I shall do my very best to ensure your survival," he said, now grave. "Even if _I_ die, I hope you shall live."

"Don't say that," she said quickly. "The Lady and Lórien are both worth dying for, but me? Be serious, Haldir. I am but an artist."

"I am serious. I would not want to live in a world without my dearest friend."

Oreleth felt her breath catch in her chest. She exhaled slowly and shook her head. "You are too important to go throwing your life away for me. Besides, we should focus on how to prevent any of us dying."

"A fair point." They walked in silence for a short while.

"Perhaps," he mused, "you need to learn the use of other ranged weapons, ones not so easily grabbed by goblins."

"What did you have in mind?"

"You already have a natural skill for daggers. Perhaps throwing knives would be to your liking?"

"That could work. I would not be helpless if a foe were to grab my bow."

Haldir drew a small knife from his boot. "Here. Throw this into that tree, over there."

Oreleth balanced herself and took a moment to aim before flinging the blade. To her dismay, it sailed past the tree and landed on the ground several yards away with a thud. Haldir chuckled loudly while she ran to retrieve it, red-faced. "It sounded far easier than it was!"

"As with everything, it requires practice. We shall add this to your training."

Oreleth's expression turned forlorn. "More training?"

"Worn out already, mellonamin?" he teased.

"It isn't that. I simply have not had time to paint and I fear it is affecting my mood. My craft is with art, not war."

"Yes, you remind me of that at every opportunity," he replied dryly.

"I'm sorry. It's just, I feel as if I am walking in another's skin. This is all so against my nature."

"You are a gentle soul, Oreleth. I pray all this will not change that."

"As do I, mellonamin." She handed his knife back and sighed heavily. "You know, I almost envy men. Death is an inevitability for them, and they come to accept it-welcome it, even. They charge into battle, crying for it with the ferocity of a great storm. And here I am, an elf, finding myself frightened at the idea. I should not, as I know a home awaits me to the west should I fall. But I do."

"There is nothing wrong with being afraid. The way you handle it speaks volumes of your character. For instance, you could weep and refuse to train, and hide in your house until the goblin's flames devour everything. Instead, you do everything in your power, learning all you can, to prevent the destruction of our home and our people."

"I do all I can, yet it feels inadequate. I feel so overwhelmed."

"There is still time. Trust me when I say you are one of the most promising recruits we have right now. That must count for something."

"Perhaps very little, but still something."

As they had made it back to her home, Haldir stopped and took her hands in his. "Something is better than nothing, Oreleth. Now go rest. You shall feel better in the morning." Before she could respond, he leaned in, kissed her cheek, and left.

Oreleth stood, stunned in silence, watching him leave.


End file.
